


Fortune's Familiar

by viciousmollymaukery



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, caleb's love language is sharing magic, spoilers through episode 118
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viciousmollymaukery/pseuds/viciousmollymaukery
Summary: Essek inexplicably wakes up after his execution. Caleb decides to help him take the first step down this new path: acquiring a familiar.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 18
Kudos: 280





	Fortune's Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> ***SPOILERS BELOW***
> 
> The background events of this fic were basically my worst fear through all of the Eiselcross arc and now that our favorite hot boi is back and I know that it's NOT HAPPENING, I finally feel like I can post this without bringing down the wrath of the universe! Please let me know what you think or if I missed any tags.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Carrying out an act of treason requires a number of contingency plans, one of which is preparation for being discovered. Essek had long since made peace with the possibility of being imprisoned, tortured, and executed, unlikely though he considered the outcome to be; he’d spent long enough in court to become intimately familiar with the vast depths of its incompetence. Still, he’d planned accordingly for what he would do and how he might escape, or better yet, prove his innocence in whatever version of a ‘trial’ the Bright Queen might deign fit to give him in her current state of mind.

So, it had seemed like a cruel joke when he’d returned from the peace talks to find himself surrounded by the Aurora Watch waiting for him in his tower.

And it had only gotten crueler during his stay in the Dungeon of Penance as the secrets and lies were ripped from his lips by whatever means the Queen deemed necessary.

And when the punchline had finally come in the form of a rope around his neck and a gallows floor vanishing beneath his feet, his last thought was that he really should have found it in him to laugh.

But his next thought is that he shouldn’t be able to _have_ this sort of hindsight at all, because he’s dead and his soul is adrift until the end of time, thankfully never to be taken by his people’s so-called deity for whatever nefarious purposes it may have in store for those foolish enough to bind themselves to it.

But he _does_ end up laughing, because he can’t help but find it funny, and the cracked sound that emerges from his throat and assails his ears makes it very clear that something is wrong, because he shouldn’t be _able_ to make that sound or hear it let alone feel any alarm as a result.

The next impossible sound that comes is one he recognizes all too well as a book snapping shut, followed by a rapid shuffling from somewhere near his head. He feels something touch his face and push some of his hair back—more feelings he shouldn’t be able to feel from things he shouldn’t even have.

“Essek.” A voice he never should be able to hear again, one that had spoken a promise of something more that he would never get to see, that he had clung to the thought of through the dark right up until the end. “Essek, are you awake? Can you open your eyes?”

He does, even though he shouldn’t have eyes to see with anymore, but they blink open to see Caleb’s concerned face inches from his own, framed by a soft amber glow that permeates whatever room he’s in.

Essek blinks a few more times before he decides he might as well try to speak as well. “Wh—”

He’s cut off by a fit of coughing that rips through his parched throat. His dry lips crack painfully and he can feel blood starting to well up and drip over his tongue.

Caleb links an arm around his shoulders and carefully eases him up from the pillows into a sitting position, reaching behind him to grab a corked bottle from the nightstand. “Here, drink this first.”

The thing Essek recognizes as a potion is practically shoved in his mouth, but he lifts one shaking hand to take it clumsily from Caleb. The herbal, earthy flavor sinks deep into his aches and pains, and his muddled brain clarifies a bit to better process exactly what’s going on around him.

He’s alive, that much is obvious, though he can’t quite piece together how or why just yet. The room they’re in is lit dimly by four amber spheres of light that hover gently in the air above the four post bed. Caleb’s arm is still around his shoulder, but his free hand fishes through his pocket and pulls out a small piece of copper wire. “Caduceus,” he says into it, “Essek is awake now. I gave him a potion, but we could use a bit more help if you have it in you.”

There’s a brief pause, during which Essek finishes the potion and Caleb takes the empty bottle from him to set it back down, before lifting the wire to speak again. “ _Ja_ , okay, take as long as you need, then. Don’t want to rush the steeping process.”

Caleb lowers the wire and sighs, shifting how he’s seated to better face Essek. “I’m sure you have questions, but first you should know that we are all safe here.” He gestures to the room around them, and Essek takes in the wood paneled walls and plush furniture with better clarity this time around. “We can’t be Scryed on or anything like that, as long as we’re in the tower.”

Essek nods, but the pounding behind his eyes proves that to be a very bad idea, and he ends up wincing instead. “I… that is good to know,” he says slowly, his voice still strained and hoarse. “What happened? H—how did I get here?”

Caleb looks down at his lap for a moment, pursing his lips and breathing slowly out through his nose. “Well,” he says delicately, “to answer a question with a question, what is the last thing you remember?”

His head is still spinning, the memories are still swirling around his skull, but he recalls with disturbing clarity being dragged forth from his icy cell after the gods know how long and up in front of the Lucid Bastion, the unforgiving sunlight shining down onto Rosohna to witness his downfall on this day of his death that had been deemed holy, he remembers the guards throwing him hard enough to pop one of his knees that still pulses with pain even now before pulling the noose around his neck, he remembers thinking bitterly of floating and irony before the world disappeared with a sickening _crack—_

What Essek can’t remember is when his breathing had gotten so ragged or when so much cold sweat had started drenching his body, but he becomes somehow aware of Caleb’s hand running up and down his spine and his voice calling his name.

“—sek, it’s okay, you’re safe, I’m right here. Can you hear me?”

He nods again despite the headache, nowhere near able to answer the question out loud.

“Okay, good, that’s very good. Here.” Caleb snaps his fingers and Frumpkin appears in Essek’s lap, mewling in what even Essek can tell is concern. The cat nuzzles Essek’s hand and he lifts it to bury his bandaged fingers in the soft fur, the sensation bringing him back to reality by inches.

“Thank you,” he whispers once his breathing has settled and the walls are back in their rightful four places around him.

“You’re welcome,” Caleb says softly, his hand stilling between Essek’s shoulder blades. “I’m sorry, I—I should have just told you.”

A single laugh manages to bubble up and escape Essek’s lips. “You don’t have to apologize.” Caleb certainly wasn’t responsible for the fate that had been wrought upon him, or the fact that he bore its memories now. This was a punishment entirely of his own design.

Essek sees Caleb’s jaw twist, but he doesn’t press the issue any further. He instead reaches down to stroke under Frumpkin’s chin, eliciting a soft purr from the cat now curled against Essek’s stomach. “My point is, you’re perfectly safe now,” he continues. “We managed to get to you after you were—after you died.” He sighs and rubs the back of his own neck, and Essek tries not to read any symbolism into the motion. “We were able to resurrect you once we got out, obviously. Though I fear we may not be welcome back in the Dynasty anytime soon.”

Essek’s heart sinks. Disdainful though he was to his home, he knew it had its uses and was a much better ally than it was an enemy. “I’m sorry about that. I knew you were wanting to learn more about the Beacons.”

“There are other Beacons out there, if the stories _are_ in fact true” Caleb says automatically, holding Essek’s gaze. “We actually have plans to go after the one currently in the clutches of what remains of the Cerberus Assembly—there have, ah, been some developments there, by the way,” Caleb chuckles, smiling at him as if it were the easiest thing in the world and Essek hadn’t hurt him deeply mere weeks ago by the sound of it.

“I am… I am so, _so_ sorry that we weren’t able to get to you sooner.” Caleb takes one of Essek’s hands and holds it lightly in his own, careful not to disturb the gauze that still covers his broken fingers like a clunky pair of mittens. “I—we came as fast as we could once we realized that something was wrong.”

Essek clears his throat, able to speak a bit easier now. “How _did_ you realize, if I might ask?”

“We ran into a Dynasty expedition up north,” Caleb explains. “Jester tried to send you a message to get some more information but didn’t get a response. Then she Scryed and when she couldn’t see you, we decided to come back and find out what happened. The um—well, your mother actually informed us of the situation, and assured us that Den Thelyss ‘would do everything it could to make sure that the saviors of the Dynasty still felt welcome during what must be a trying time,’” Caleb quotes, the resentment dripping from his voice with every word.

Essek smiles bitterly. “That sounds like her.” He wonders distantly how much she had cooperated with what must have been a humiliating investigation into the extent of her son’s crimes. Doubtless, she’d have done everything she could to save her own skin and salvage the standing of her den, which would reasonably include smoothing things over with the Mighty Nein.

The hand on Essek’s shoulder gives a soft, sympathetic squeeze before Caleb continues. “Anyway, from there it was a matter of logistics. Thankfully we had a week left to plan before the… the ‘big day’, so to speak, and now here we are.”

“Here we are… where, exactly?” The architecture didn’t remind Essek of anywhere in particular, and the window to his left depicted a night sky he didn’t recognize.

Caleb coughs and looks away, turning his attention down to Frumpkin. “This, uh—well, it’s a spell largely of my own design, but based off of one I’ve heard about in the past. I’d been working on it for a while but I was only recently able to work out the final kinks. It’s essentially a pocket dimension of sorts. There’s plenty of room for everyone to stay here, but I’ll have to recast it after twenty-four hours—oh, I almost forgot.”

Caleb claps his hands, and another cat leaps out seemingly from nowhere and pads across the bed over towards him. “Fluffy,” Caleb instructs, “could you bring us some dinner, please? And perhaps ask Caduceus about the tea?”

The cat— _Fluffy_ —meows once at Caleb before jumping down from the bed and trotting out of sight. Caleb turns back towards Essek with a grin he couldn’t help but return.

“That is very impressive,” Essek says, and Caleb seems to sit up a bit straighter. “I think I know of the original spell, but I’ve yet to see an interpretation with such a level of personal flair.”

“Well, thank you,” Caleb replies, leaning down to pull the blankets up a bit. “Perhaps it will be my turn to pass something along to you during our next study session.”

Essek’s smile slowly fades, his heart crumbling at Caleb’s words and the implication they hold. “Caleb, I… don’t think I will be able to teach you any magic for the foreseeable future. They, uh, burned my books when I was discovered.” He knows how dangerous it is to admit that he may not be of any use to these people, but he owes them whatever scraps of honesty he has it in him to give at this point.

But Caleb doesn’t look at him with disappointment, or disdain, or relief that he doesn’t have to pretend to care anymore. His expression is one of pity, which is still awful in its own right, but better than what Essek had been expecting.

“All of them?” He asks almost tentatively.

Essek swallows. “Yes, all of them. My towers and belongings are considered forfeit to the Dynasty. I doubt they’ll want to keep any record of my flawed and imperfect existence. Courts are always quick to blot out stains,” he says miserably.

The truth hurts, it’s why he’d grown so comfortable with his lies, but he can’t avoid it anymore. Without his magic, Essek had nothing. He _was_ nothing. And that was all he could give to the miracle of a man sitting next to him, who had pulled him back from the dark without a second thought even at great risk to himself and those he loved—nothing.

He feels Caleb shift and finds himself being pulled into what can pass as a hug, given how they’re seated next to each other. He fights the split second urge to tense or pull away and instead leans in, breathing deeply the now familiar scent of woodsmoke and aged parchment that he thinks is the closest thing ‘home’ could ever smell like. Caleb’s head twists and he presses a kiss to the top of Essek’s head before speaking again.

“I’m sorry. Truly. Losing all that work is… it’s horrible. There’s no other word for it.”

His eyes sting and there’s a burning tightness in his throat that’s keeping him from speaking, but Caleb seems to understand all the same and starts slowly stroking his hair, saying nothing but still providing a silent comfort.

They stay like that for several minutes until there’s the sound of a door squeaking, and the cat Caleb had previously dispatched slinks back in with a plate balanced on its tail. Caduceus walks carefully behind it, holding a tray with a steaming teapot and a few cups in his hands.

“Hey there,” he rumbles, looking down at Essek with a smile as he sets the tea set down on one of the tables. “You feeling better now?”

Essek sits up a bit straighter and wipes his eyes with a sniff, far past any attempt to preserve whatever shreds of dignity he might have had left. “I feel… considerably better than I did a few hours ago, yes.”

“Glad to hear it,” Caduceus says as he carefully pours a cup of tea and hands it to Essek, who takes it as best he can with the bandages. “Now, you’re gonna drink this, and I’m gonna cast a few spells that’ll make you feel better, okay?”

“Okay,” Essek breathes, automatically steeling himself. Magic had done very little to make him feel ‘better’ during his capture, and he finds himself watching Caduceus like a hawk the entire time he drinks the tea. Caleb definitely takes notice, if the hand carefully running over his back again and Frumpkin redoubling his purring efforts were any indications.

Still, with a few whispered prayers and glows of holy light, Essek ends up almost in comparable shape to before he had been imprisoned. There were still some aches in his joints, and his leg most likely would not take his weight for a while, but it was considerable progress.

“There we go,” Caduceus says with a smile, removing the last of the wrappings from Essek’s hands. “Good as new!”

Essek flexes his fingers experimentally, finding them still shaky and their grip weaker than he remembers. Not quite ‘good as new’, in his opinion, but he would certainly take it over the alternative.

“Thank you,” he breathes, taking the second cup of tea that’s offered to him. The warmth sinks deep into his skin and seems to slowly crack the lingering, icy fear that’s frozen into his veins.

“You’re very welcome,” Caduceus says, tidying up the tea set. “Make sure you get plenty of rest this next week or so, alright? Death can be a bit tricky.”

“Believe me, I will.” Essek can still feel the exhaustion that’s set deep into his bones, and the prospect of rest is an enticing one.

Caduceus stands up with the tea tray in his hands and looks back to Caleb. “I can help the cats make some breakfast in the morning, if they’re okay with that. I’m not really sure if they can hear me like other cats can, so I figured I’d ask you if that’s something I can do.”

Caleb clears his throat. “ _Ja_ , um, I can arrange that with them.”

“Glad to hear it,” Caduceus says with a nod and one last gentle smile. “Anyway, eat up and get some sleep. We can probably take it easy for the next few days anyway, so just worry about resting up for now.”

He’d almost forgotten about the plate of food the cat had brought in, but Caleb lifts it towards him after the door had closes behind Caduceus. Essek takes the bread from it and begins ripping off small pieces, dipping them into the small bowl of soup before chewing slowly. Even so, he’s only able to stomach around half of the small loaf before he’s fighting back against waves of nausea.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he sighs, trying his best not to feel defeated by a _meal_ of all things. "I just need some sleep."

Caleb can obviously sense his mood, and wordlessly takes the plate to hand it off to one of the cats, who whisks it out of sight. He flicks his hand and the empty fireplace bursts to life, the flames slowly dimming down and crackling softly as a warm glow fills the room. Frumpkin leans up against Essek’s chest and practically pushes him back down into the pillows before carefully, tentatively reaching up a paw to bat at his nose.

“Frumpkin, that is rude,” Caleb chastises, frowning at his familiar.

Essek smiles slightly as Caleb lifts the cat up, earning a small _mrrp_ of surprise. “Doesn’t he follow your commands?”

“In theory,” Caleb sighs. “But theory and practice often differ.” He leans down to grab the comforter folded on the foot of the bed and pulls it over them both.

It strikes Essek then that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of Caleb leaving for the evening, and he wasn’t sure whether the wizard in question had either. There was still much to be done, discussions to be had and likely points to be argued from both of them, but there was a shared, unspoken understanding that they had come to a truce if not a complete resolution.

Caleb sets Frumpkin back down on the mattress, who immediately curls up against Essek’s chest and begins purring. Essek carefully strokes down his back, hoping in the back of his mind that the orange fur would cover the lingering bruises on his fingers.

“Do you not have one?” Caleb murmurs, giving Frumpkin a scratch under his chin.

Essek blinks, tiredness muddling his brain and the meaning of Caleb’s words. “A cat?”

“Ah, no. I meant, um, a familiar…?”

“Oh. No, I don’t.” Essek stifles a yawn and his eyes flutter dangerously for a moment. “Never really needed one.”

“Hm.” Caleb studies Frumpkin for a moment longer with an almost calculating expression on his face before lifting his hand, dismissing the amber globules of light so the dim fireplace is all that illuminates the room they’re in. “Well, goodnight, Essek.”

“Goodnight, Caleb,” is all he manages to respond with before sleep claims him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


A hand gently shaking his shoulder is what wakes him some hours later, and Essek jumps awake from the myriad of unpleasant memories his unconscious mind had swept him up in, inhaling sharply as his vision comes back into focus. Caleb pulls away immediately at his reaction, kneeling down beside the bed in a placating gesture.

“Sorry,” he says softly, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

Essek lets his breath out with a huff, shoulders slumping as his heartbeat slows. “I’m fine,” he sighs. “Is something wrong?”

“No no, not at all,” Caleb reassures him, sitting on the bed as Frumpkin jumps up and begins kneading the blankets. “Everything is perfectly fine. I just, ah… well, I got you something.”

Essek studies Caleb as he pulls a small rectangle wrapped in brown paper from within his coat and hands it to him. He takes it carefully, noting the light weight of the mystery package as he tries unsuccessfully to get his still weakened fingers to cooperate with him enough to untie the twine around it, frustration building with every fruitless motion.

“Ah, _scheisse,_ I’m—here, let me.” Caleb takes the package from him, their hands brushing as he undoes the neat bow and it falls away along with the paper. Frumpkin immediately begins batting at the string while Caleb hands him the now revealed object.

It’s a book, expensive paper bound in deep purple leather and emblazoned with silver designs over the cover, the main one being a glittering dodecahedron. Essek recognizes various dunamantic and general arcane glyphs, but with a more artistic flair than the ones used in standard magical casting. His first name is inscribed in what he knows by heart as Caleb’s handwriting on the inside cover, along with the main sigil for the Fortune’s Favor spell.

Essek understands its purpose and meaning immediately. This isn’t just a new spellbook, it’s a physical manifestation of the second chance that had been extended to him on the ship, the one he’d clung to the idea of when he was alone in the dark all that time. Holding it in his hands is almost too much.

A fist takes up residence in his throat, and it’s a long minute before it loosens enough for him to form a response. “I… Caleb, I—thank you.” He takes a deep breath and hopes his next words come out stronger. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Caleb says warmly, linking an arm around his shoulders as he had the night before. “Honestly, it took a bit of doing to get it made. The last time we were in this city, I, uh, may have bought up quite a lot of the stationary. All of it, actually.” He clears his throat. “I was thinking that—well, if you’re feeling up to it, we could get started on filling it today. It will be my turn to teach you this time, it seems,” he smiles.

His breath catches. The idea of being able to do something so _normal_ after all this time feels almost unnatural, but it feels like exactly what he needs right now. “Yes,” Essek says quickly, “I think I’m definitely feeling up to that.”

“Very good,” Caleb says. He adjusts how he’s seated on the bed and removes some ink and spare paper from where he keeps his own spellbook, flipping it open and apparently searching for the correct page. “First things first,” he continues, “I think we should get you one of these.” He lifts Frumpkin under his front legs with his free hand, who sticks out his tongue slightly at Essek.

“A cat?” He asks, echoing his words from before with a smile.

“A _familiar_ ,” Caleb clarifies with the same expression, eyes lighting up when he finally gets to the correct spell. “Though I suppose it doesn’t strictly _have_ to be a cat, if you really want to it to be a different creature of some kind for whatever reason.”

Essek would swear he can detect a hint of judgment in Caleb’s words, and takes a fond note of just how convicted he is towards the form of his familiar. “I see.”

Caleb hands him a spare quill and pulls himself closer, holding the spellbook in his lap so Essek can start copying it down. “We can take breaks if you need to. Altogether, the process for this particular spell shouldn’t take more than two hours, but writing for that long can be taxing even under more typical circumstances.”

“Right,” Essek says, holding the quill a bit awkwardly in his sore hand as he peers at the pages. The glyphs themselves are fairly simple conjuration magic, and he’s a bit relieved to get back to the basics rather than anything terribly complex. It feels more appropriate to start from the bottom and build his way back up. He wants to do this _right_ and not throw away this precious opportunity he’s been given. His ambition had been the death of him the first time around, after all.

The process of actually copying the spell itself passes in amiable silence, for the most part. Essek does end up needing more breaks than he would have wanted, but Caleb makes sure to call for tea or something to eat anytime Essek’s writing slows or his notation starts resembling more of a scrawl than anything legible. He knows he should probably be annoyed at Caleb’s bedside manner, but he ultimately finds it relieving that he doesn’t have to voice his weaknesses out loud.

“I think that’s it,” Essek breathes once he finishes up the final few pen strokes. The completed spell stares back at him, the ink slowly drying against the paper.

Caleb looks up from where he’d been petting Frumpkin and looks over his work, smiling slowly as he takes it all in. “ _Ja_ , that’s very good. Excellent, actually.”

“I would hope so. I do have an excellent teacher.” Essek grins, and Caleb looks away, smiling sheepishly.

“Well, don’t get ahead of yourself. Now you get to cast it. Here, can you stand?”

It takes a lot of effort, Caleb’s hands hovering around his waist and moving some of the pillows and cushions down with them, but they manage to clear away a small space on the floor to draw the necessary charcoal lines and light the small brazier used for the spell. The casting itself takes quite some time, but they seem to have plenty of that here, and Essek finds himself wonderfully caught up in the process of actually _doing magic again_ that the hour’s end closes in on them far too soon.

“Remember,” Caleb instructs as he sets the brazier down in the middle, already wearing the air of a teacher very nicely in Essek’s opinion. “You can choose whether the familiar itself is a fey, fiend, or celestial, as well as what form it takes, with some limitations, unfortunately. Do you have any final questions?”

Essek considers it for a moment. “Just one. Why this spell?”

Caleb blinks and tilts his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“There are dozens of spells in your spellbook,” Essek says. “I was wondering why you chose this one to show to me first.”

He knows he probably shouldn’t push—he doesn’t want to do anything to betray this already fragile thing that might one day look like trust he’s begun to build back up again. But the question had been pulling and pulling at his mind until curiosity overtook nicety and he had to ask, no matter the consequences it may hold for him. He had always been a selfish creature.

Caleb sighs slowly through his nose and drops his gaze, looking down at where his hands are folded in his lap even as his vision drifts a million miles away. “I… to give a—a _short_ answer to a simple question, there was once a time when I felt like I had lost everything as well. There were parts I had squandered, foolishly, and there were parts that had been ripped away from me. But ultimately, that distinction made very little difference.”

He looks back up at Essek, and as always those blue eyes seem to pierce right through him and stare at his soul. “I told you I was like you. I _was_. And this—” he points at the setup for the spell— “was the first step I took to get to where I am _now._ I—I cannot and I will not walk this path _for_ you, Essek. I cannot undo your past, and I cannot write your future. But what I _can_ do is give you everything you need to make this journey for yourself, and walk it _with_ you every step of the way. If experience is any teacher, this is the first thing you need, and I am more than happy to give it.”

There’s a few heartbeats of silence after Caleb finishes speaking, during which Essek considers all the information he has just learned. There’s more to Caleb’s story, he can tell that much with ease, but he certainly isn’t going to press any further right now. What’s clear is that a hand is being extended to him, and all Essek has to do is take it.

He breathes slowly, in and out, before responding. “I understand,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “Thank you, for—for telling me. I promise you I will not take this for granted.”

Caleb nods once. “Good. Now, I believe it is almost time.”

Essek turns back towards the small circle, watching the smoke from the brazier drift slowly upward, almost lazily, and takes one more deep breath. “Very well,” he exhales. He adjusts how he’s sitting on the ground and begins the final few steps of spellcasting, tracing the glyphs in the air with his fingers and muttering the ancient arcane words he knows by heart now.

The lines of charcoal glow slightly against the dark floorboards, and the fire in the brazier grows from mere embers to a full flame. He finishes the final components of the spell and there’s a brief flash of magic that lights up the whole room, making his light-sensitive eyes sting painfully for a few moments. Essek blinks, and when his vision clears, he sees—

Nothing. There’s nothing, only a hazy cloud of smoke drifting around the brazier. Essek’s heart somehow sinks into his stomach and leaps up into his throat at the same time. Of _course_ there would be _nothing_ , how could he have ever thought that any creature in this universe would want to be bound to him? Caleb was sure to hate him now, he was going to be sent away, he—

“ _Mrow?”_

The cloud of smoke seems to grow a pink nose and two large silver eyes before slowly slinking forward, swishing its tail along the ground before sitting at the edge of the circle and licking one of its paws before pulling it along one triangular ear.

Essek exhales for the first time in almost a minute. His heart returns to its rightful place in his chest and starts beating again. It had worked after all, and his familiar had taken the form of a sleek, dark grey cat that was currently sniffing at the charcoal etchings responsible for bringing it into this plane.

“Uh, hello,” he breathes, carefully extending a hand. He’d never had a cat before, or pets of any kind, so he has very little to go on in terms of how he should welcome this creature into his life. The cat sniffs his fingers for a moment before rubbing her mouth along the side of his palm.

“That’s good,” Caleb says, apparently seeing Essek’s bewildered expression. “That means she likes you.”

Essek laughs nervously as she trots forward and jumps into his lap, her claws poking holes in his clothes as she starts kneading her paws. “That’s good, I suppose.”

Frumpkin steps over to see the new arrival, sniffing her ear curiously before looking up at Caleb with an indignant _meow_ as if to ask if he’s going to do something about this. She largely ignores him, content to purr where she is for now, and Essek carefully scratches under her chin the way he’d seen Caleb do before.

“Do you know what you want to name her yet?” Caleb asks, keeping one eye on Frumpkin as he carefully raises a paw to bat at her tail. She flicks it without looking up and catches his nose, and he scampers behind Caleb to glare at her.

“I’m not sure yet,” Essek confesses. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Caleb nods. “That’s okay. You can give it a few days, if you need to. It should feel right. But,” he continues, “for what it’s worth, this alone has been an excellent first step.”

“’First step,’” Essek echoes, considering the words. Then, looking back down at the cat curled in his lap. “Would you like to be called _Ust?”_

She looks up at him and blinks once, slowly, before lowering her head back down.

“ _That_ usually means yes,” Caleb says, “but what does _‘ust’_ mean?”

“It means ‘first’ in Undercommon,” Essek explains. “It feels… appropriate, all things considered.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Caleb murmurs, reaching a hand down to her. She sniffs it for a brief moment before practically pushing her face into it, and he chuckles slightly. “Now,” Caleb says, “the next step is a nap, which I think we’ve both earned at this point.”

“That does sound nice.” Essek stands with Caleb’s help and lets himself be half guided, half carried back over to the bed, practically collapsing into it. The rush of performing magic had left him, leaving more exhaustion to deal with in its wake. The fam— _Ust_ jumps up with him and settles by his head, purring softly, while Frumpkin sits in the crook of Caleb’s knee, still staring her down with an expression like bewilderment and jealously.

Essek is so tired by now he barely registers the sensation of Caleb’s fingers threading softly through his hair, tucking a few strands behind his ear. He’s careful to avoid touching Essek’s neck, thankfully, and Essek’s lulled close to unconsciousness when he feels Caleb’s lips press softly against his forehead, just for a brief moment before pulling away again.

“Sleep well, Essek,” Caleb breathes.

“I will,” he murmurs, eyes still closed. “You as well, Caleb.”

“I’ll do my best. There’s a long journey ahead for both of us.”

“I know. And I’m very grateful to walk it with you.”

But thankfully, that journey can wait until morning, and Essek spends the rest of the night in a pleasant, dreamless sleep.


End file.
